


I Want You (And I Always Will)

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6063124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It always started with his hands. Every time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want You (And I Always Will)

**Author's Note:**

> I have no fucking clue what this is. It just kinda spiraled, tbh, and turned into this interesting amalgamation of . . . I don't even know anymore.  
> Blaming it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol.  
> Thanks for reading anyway!

It always started with his hands. Every time. She can never pinpoint when it’ll start, that slow, dull thrumming between her legs that had a habit of turning to a longing ache within minutes, but each time it did she noticed she was staring at his hands for too long. She’d watched him dismantle the core of an engine in mere minutes with baited breath, hyper aware of the way his fingertips seemed to skate over the oil-coated metal with all the finesse of a painter on his next masterpiece. The long digits were never wholly at rest, either. If he wasn’t tinkering, he was tapping them against his thigh, against the armrests of the chair on their ship, against her hips when he held her just before they fell asleep. 

From his hands she worked her way up to his wrists, strong, flexible, able to maneuver his lightsaber with deadly precision and accuracy. She’d been on the receiving end of that one too many times before he’d decided to forsake his training with Snoke and abandon the Dark Side, more than content to inhabit the Grey with her. A few flicks of those wrists and his enemies were carved like sweetcakes, split open like overripe fruit. His forearms were strong, too, and his biceps bracketed her head every time they fucked, spread on either side of her so he could stare past her eyes and into her very being as he pounded into her. His chest dwarfed her, made her feel tiny and fragile, even though she’d drawn his blood more than he’d ever drawn hers. When they fucked his skin would wear the red, angry lines where her nails had bitten his skin, and he’d groan whenever she would sink her teeth into the overly sensitive skin right afterwards. 

She liked the way he felt against her, atop her, his frame enormous, muscles tensing and relaxing as his hips would snap against hers. His weight was a strange comfort she didn’t know she’d ever want to give up. She’d wrap her arms around his ribcage to hold on for dear life, her legs circling his hips as he’d fuck into her with all the strength he possessed, long legs digging into the mattress to offer more support, and it still wouldn’t feel like enough. His one palm spanned the majority of her ass when they fucked standing up, Ben having no problem supporting her one handed while the second teased her breasts, which fit comfortably in his enormous palms. He’d run his thumb over her stiff nipples, delighting in how she mewled with pleasure at the sensation, sure that she’d come from overstimulation alone. 

When she rode him her hands would cement themselves on his knees, leaning back to allow him the perfect view of his cock sliding up and into her cunt with every roll of her hips, the sounds shared between them lewd enough to make her flush, but nothing was so intoxicating as the way he looked. Reverent. Like she was blessing him with every clench of her muscles, like so long as she was riding him he’d never need to seek anything else out. This was the end all, be all, for them. It only ever made her hips move faster, made her gyrate and whimper against him. One of his hands would almost always spread against her abdomen, pressing hard so he felt even bigger, so that she tightened around him all the more. His thumb would worry against her clit, and she’d see galaxies swarm past her vision when she came over, and over again. 

If she was gracious enough to ride him facing away, giving him a gratuitous view of her shapely ass, his hands would always come to cup and play with her breasts, massaging the tender flesh until she shook. Her nails would dig into his upper thighs, and the angle of his cock would hit that perfect spot inside of her until her vision went white and she couldn’t breathe for fear of losing one glorious second of sensation. 

It inevitably always led her her on all fours, his frame draped over her. The wide expanse of his chest pressed against her back made her feel diminutive, and as he’d rut up into her she’d grasp at the bedsheets and meet him thrust for thrust. His knees would dig into the comforter, thighs powerful as his hips would snap against hers. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forget the sound of flesh against flesh, the crude, sloppy sound of his cock entering her soaked cunt again and again that sent shivers of base pleasure up her spine. 

It was never enough, there was no such thing as too much. She’d come, he’d follow, and they’d take seconds, minutes, hours to catch their breath before starting again. The sensation of his body pressed to hers was the ultimate aphrodisiac, the sound of his deep voice moaning and rasping her name a bolt of electricity through her body, and she let him take her apart again, and again, with hands, teeth, mouth, cock, tongue, if only to build herself back up and let him start all over from the beginning. 


End file.
